The 100: Nightmares on Wax, SMOKERS DELIGHT

My relationship to electronic music has always been mercurial. My first real experiences with it likely came during the ‘90s Euro-pop boom on mainstream radio—the big tent voice-based house and techno jams like Real McCoy’s “Another Night,” Corona’s “The Rhythm of the Night” and La Bouche’s “Be My Lover,” alongside the rise of Ace of Base. I didn’t like most of that stuff at the time, though I have a lot of nostalgia wrapped up in some of that stuff (I’ll always ride for Gina G’s “Ooh Aah…Just a Little Bit”).After Spin went all in on British DJs and sample-happy bands as a replacement for alt-rock, I went all in on the likes of Chemical Brothers, the Prodigy, and Tricky. But even then, I was mostly chasing stuff that sounded like mildly electro-fied versions of rock music, like Chemical Brothers’ “Setting Sun” and Prodigy’s “Breathe.” And when the EDM craze of the 2010s made stars out of dorks like Deadmaus and Skrillex, I wanted to shoot all samplers into the sun.

But if I’m being real, the most engaged I’ve ever been in robot rock has been with the mellower side. Even though I kept Tricky’s Pre-Millennium Tension in heavy rotation since hearing it in ’97, it took me years to finally spend serious time with the discography of Massive Attack. When I finally did, I wanted to fall down a trip-hop rabbit hole, and that led me to the mellow after-hours twitchiness of acid jazz, and that led me to Nightmares on Wax.

Nightmares on Wax is the nom de musique of George Evelyn, a Brit who started spinning hip-hop and soul records in the late ‘80s. Nightmares began as a group project, but at some point it became a solo joint that allowed Evelyn to craft his groovy soundscapes that distort hip-hop beats and integrate the mustier corners of jazz, dub, funk, and soul. I will admit that sometimes Smokers Delight can seem like wallpaper, but ever track finds a lane and then swerves out of it just enough to keep you guessing. I don’t smoke weed, but it does also strike me as the kind of music you want on while you’re getting lifted, as it’s just interesting enough to get lost in but not so demanding that it’ll freak you out.

Smokers Delight is also the kind of album that functions as a complete thought, whether you’re letting it wash over you or you’re driving down the PCH. I moved to Los Angeles in 2016, and at some point that spring I got a call from a music publicist friend of mine. At the time, one of his biggest clients was Red Hot Chili Peppers, who were about to release their album The Getaway. My friend was putting together their international press package, and they needed some video clips they could send around to other markets of the band members discussing songs from the album. He hired me to conduct the interviews, so on a lovely April morning I drove out to a gigantic beach house in Malibu (nobody lived there, it’s one of those strange enclaves in the rich person economy that only gets rented out for parties and photo shoots), and in addition to spinning the as-yet-unheard tracks from their Danger Mouse-produced The Getaway (a pretty good record!) I also spun Smokers Delight on repeat. The memories I have of that drive are so vivid, and it’s entirely possible my attachment to Smokers Delight is wrapped up in how it made me feel while the California coast sped by me, but I also enjoy it when I’m not cruising through paradise.